


A Hex Cast

by SpunYarn



Series: A Book Of Hexes [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, One Shot (Sort of), Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpunYarn/pseuds/SpunYarn
Summary: Somehow, even without successfully unleashing her spell on Robin, everything has worked out for Tharja. If she had known that all she needed to do to win the affections of her beloved strategist, was standard seduction, she would have started there. Unfortunately things might get complicated when Henry decides he'd rather risk finishing the spell than spend all day guarding it. Is Tharja prepared for the consequences that come with leaving her spell unfinished?The special sequel chapter to "A Hex Called Love". You don't have to have read the previous story to enjoy this one.





	A Hex Cast

**Author's Note:**

> Well...this kind of turned out to be way longer than I thought it'd be.
> 
> If you've already read "A Hex Called Love" you might remember that I thought I might like to close the open loop of the spell, but I didn't want to ruin the sappy and happy ending that I had gotten to. This is the bonus chapter that I promised where I close that loop.
> 
> If you haven't read "A Hex Called Love", don't worry. You don't need to have read it to enjoy this one. This kind of spoils that everything works out in the end of that one, but I like happy endings, so knowing that spoils that too.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

The shadows of the tent were composed of the kind of darkness that made a person uncomfortable. It was the kind of tarry blackness that threatened to seep into your soul, and linger with you for the rest of your days. It was the kind of darkness that felt like it was more than just the simple absence of light. The tent had an atmosphere to it that would turn away most possible visitors. It was as if the very tent itself was challenging any who would dare enter it, asking them if they were prepared, if they liked darkness. 

If someone were able to stay inside the tent long enough for their eyes to adjust to the startling lack of light, the furnishings of the tent would not have given them wholesome feelings. To one side stood a tall shelf stuffed with tomes, arcane script scrawled down spines in symbols that didn’t translate to the common tongue. On the other side of the tent stood a dark and imposing bed with tall, elegantly carved spires at it’s corners. A sheer curtain hung between the wooden spires like a veil, accentuating the exotic feeling of the black satins and silks that served for sheets and covers.

In the centre of the tent stood a round table constructed of wood that had been lacquered to a deep black. Over the top of it was spread a collection of arcane artifacts, magical reagents, and a piece of parchment with intricate patterns painted over its surface in the form of a complicated spell circle. To the uninitiated, it would look like the frightening physical manifestation of every worst superstition relating to the darkest of magics. To those familiar with spells and magic, it looked like an incomplete work that was ready to go off at any moment, which was just as frightening.

For Henry, it was a troublesome problem, and it was currently his shift to be watching over it.

The white haired sorcerer understood why the spell needed to be watched. While all of the magic users from the Shepherds had decided that it probably wasn’t _dangerous_ , none of them could declare with certainty what it was meant to do. Leaving a half-complete spell meant for a mysterious result unguarded was like letting a child play with a loaded ballista. If some scout stumbled in and accidentally set it off, it could turn people into frogs, flood the nearest village, or shoot a flare into the sky so that their enemies could more easily find them.

While Henry was a dark magician, breaking down Tharja’s spell to find out what it did was proving impossible. When it came right down to it, there was more than one discipline when it came to their dark sorcery, and most magicians had their own shorthand for spells. Interrogating Tharja probably would have been the fastest way to get answers, but when Henry had suggested it, he had been denied.

Apparently, even after learning that he was likely the target, Robin, had decided to take personal custody over the dark witch, Tharja. Henry knew that their strategist was a clever man, and wouldn’t have done such a thing unless his safety was secure. In all likelihood, Robin probably knew what the spell had been designed to do, and as such knew he was in no danger from the sorceress. While Henry was happy to know his friend was probably safe, he found it frustrating that the intent of this spell that he was guarding was being kept from him.

There were things that the dark mage could have been doing instead of being here. Even given his profession, he found the inside of Tharja’s tent to be a little bit unsettling. He was stuck here guarding the spell, and he couldn’t even sate his curiosity as to what it did. If only there wasn’t a chance that it could go off anymore, he could just leave and go back to what he had been doing before.

He stopped suddenly, and stared at the spell circle for a moment. That was it! The solution to all of his problems! He just needed to make the problem of the spell go away, and then his time as a guard would be over.

It could be dangerous to try and dismantle the spell. With a mind as devious as Tharja’s there might be some sort of boobytrap hidden in the spell ready to strike anyone who tampered with it. Without knowing what it did, there was also the threat that he might accidentally set it off while he was trying to disarm it. He knew that approach would be time-consuming, and since the mages had been told to avoid touching it, it meant a certain level of social danger as well.

The simpler solution, and the one that he had arrived at almost immediately was far simpler.The small bowl of ingredients that had been assembled in the centre of the circle would be enough for a single use. Based on the small corked vail that had contained a lock of white hair, the remaining piece was a bit of hair to designate a target. If Henry chose to add some hair to the spell, it would probably go off, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

It was tempting to use Robin’s hair. Henry was frustrated with their strategist for keeping things about this spell so secret. It would probably serve him right if the spell went off and hit him with whatever it did. He also had the small bottle of what everyone suspected was Robin’s hair, so it wouldn’t be too hard to find the sample. On the other hand, without knowing what the spell did, he might inadvertently do something to their strategist that cost them the next battle. It was also possible that the bottle didn’t contain Robin’s hair, which given his own hair colour, Henry found troubling.

Henry supposed that he could get the hair of one of his fellow magic users. They were the most capable of defending themselves against a hex, or at least knowing what had happened. They were also taking shifts defending the tent so solving this problem for himself meant solving it for them as well. He was pretty sure that if he explained that it was all an experiment, Miriel would probably back him up on his desire to set it off. If he did that though, they would know he had done it, and that would make things a bit too tense in the camp.

The dark mage growled in the back of his throat. He couldn’t risk setting whatever this was off on most of the camp. Most of the soldiers wouldn’t even know what to do about a hex, and it would just lead to everyone looking at him with those terrified eyes that he had grown so used to seeing.Setting off the spell to get rid of it was turning out to be a bust.

He was stuck here watching a mess that Tharja had made. None of this was fair, and all of it was Tharja’s fault. Maybe setting up some sort of prank on her would make him feel better. His eyes scanned a shadowy section of the tent, finding her cape, hanging from a coat rack. The fact she had left it behind confirmed what he had been heard about her being pulled out of here in a hurry. He wondered if he should do something to the cape that she always wore to get back at her.

That was when he spotted it. The answer to all of his problems and wishes. The dark mage curled his lips into a mischievous smile as he slipped across the tent. His fingers moved with a quick and practiced dexterity, up to the shoulder of the long black cape. His thin eyes sparkled as he pressed his thumb and forefinger together, slowly pulling his prize away from the dark material.

“Perfect…” The whisper left Henry’s slim smile as he examined the long strand of raven-black hair that he had retrieved from Tharja’s cape.

 

oOoOo

 

The air inside of the strategist’s tent was cool against the naked skin of the witch. Tharja was seated in a chair behind the desk, her legs hugged tight against her chest, and her toes curling over the leading edge of the seat. A thin sheet of bedding was draped over her shoulders like some sort of cape, and was the only thing that offered to protect the shadowy woman’s modesty. The pieces of the formfitting uniform of a dark magician had long since been discarded, and while she could have put it back on, she had no desire to. 

When she had found herself a captive of the bit of ruins that served the Shepherds she had known in her heart that everything was over. She had been surprised when Robin had visited her in that cold sad place. All she could remember was how consumed by jealousy and rage she had been, but how he had destroyed those concerns, burning them away with his white-hot passion. 

Her body shivered as her mind was flooded with the memory of that meeting in the ‘dungeon’. Her skin grew hot as she remembered how he had moved when he had thought she was a helpless maiden. She choked back a moan as she remembered how it had felt to let him believe that he was taking advantage of her, and how desperate he had seemed to claim her body. The fingers that held the thin sheet around her body twitched with an instinct to travel downwards to make an effort at replicating the physical sensations.

As Tharja watched Robin’s chest rise and fall, she quickly remembered that the reason she had left his bed was that it had been hard to keep her hands to herself. He had been everything that she had ever wanted, and while it was getting easier with time, it was hard not to try and spend every waking moment sharing rapture with him. It would have been easier had they not been sharing a tent, or had Robin not promised his life to her. Her life was suddenly filled with the joy of Robin, and she had a keen idea of the best way to enjoy their time together. 

When Robin had explained the situation of the spell to Chrom, they had come to an agreement about how to deal with it. Apparently, Robin had made an argument that she be kept in his custody instead. Either Chrom had relented to Robin’s strategic mind, or he had accepted the lustful intention and asked no additional questions. In either case, Tharja had been barred from her tent, and delivered to Robin’s custody.

Tharja’s dark eyes looked over the smooth surface of the desk, settling on the chain and shakes that she was supposed to be wearing. She suspected that the intent had been to remind the rest of the Shepherds that actions had consequences and she was a prisoner. Tharja had used them to create an image of her as a ‘helpless maiden’ to tease Robin and push him into the activity that they both so desperately craved. He had decided that it was probably better if she didn’t wear them in his tent, and she had responded by deciding not to wear anything at all.

The card that Robin had played to keep her hands off of him while they slept had been as clever and devious as any other plan the strategist had. He had reminded her that their pace was not something that he could maintain going forward. He had said that if she were to stay in his tent, and in his life, he was going to need some time to sleep. Her protests had been cut off when he had promised to make her part of the rest of his life by making her his wife, and the discussion had ended. They had not had time to find rings yet, but she knew that she was his and he was hers. That was all that mattered.

The dark witch let out a sharp gasp, her eyes going wide as she felt a sudden tingle at the base of her skull. It was a feeling that every magic user was sure to know well. She lurched forward in her seat, her fingers gripping tightly at the edge of the desk as an icy realization danced across her brain. She had been targeted by some kind of spell. Had she been wearing her usual regalia, she likely would have been able to swat it away like an annoying gnat, but instead she found herself naked and vulnerable. She silently cursed herself for dropping her guard.

The witch felt the curse push forward, invading her body. The tingling sensation ran over her shoulders and then down her spine. Her heart tightened as she desperately tried to figure out who would dare cast a spell on her. Was she in danger? Was this how she died? Would the spell turn her into a violent thrall that killed Robin? She struggled with all her might to push back against the spell and any of the horrifying things that she knew that it might make her do.

It felt like fingers made of lightning traveling over her ribs. What kind of spell would someone who targeted her use? It turned into a burning heat as it moved down over her flat stomach, and the small of her back. Had someone in camp done this to her as some sort of petty revenge? Her breathing turned to laboured gulps for air as she felt the tendrils of the spell work their way through her body. She had been struggling against it, but whoever had come up with this spell had obviously been brilliant and powerful, and her defences crumbled against it.

When the invasive feeling of the spell settled between her thighs, Tharja came to a heavy realization. As the spell transformed into an aching, unquenchable need, she knew the spell was familiar to her. Shivers jolted up Tharja’s spine, and sweat beaded on her forehead, as her lungs burned from the effort of holding back the spell. It wasn’t just any spell though. No. This was her spell. This was the spell she had designed to turn Robin into a raging knot of carnal desire, and give him the energy he’d need to fulfil every lustful desire he might have.

In the haze of lust, Tharja’s mind started grasping for simple answers. Who had done this? It didn’t matter. Whoever had done it, almost certainly had been ordered to by Robin. Why? Once the spell was dealt with she’d be able to return to her tent again, and gentle teasing would remind her not to do this again. The deviousness of Robin’s plan as she imagined it merely added fuel to the fiery need deep inside of Tharja.

Robin had clearly moved to use a spell that he did not fully understand. That was dangerous, and while Tharja might have approved of parts of his plan, he needed to be educated not to play with magic that was beyond him. She pushed herself to her feet, feeling her legs shudder as jolts of lustful energy shot through her body.

She moved around the desk with the deadly silence of an assassin. The thin sheet slipped over her shoulders, cascading to the floor as it retired from its duty of concealing the witch. Her slim fingers took hold of the shackles that had been left atop the desk, taking care not to let the metal links make too much noise as she lifted them. Even while her body screamed at her with a desperate need, every movement she made was with a calm and calculated elegance. 

Behind the table, Tharja had wondered just how much she would be able to get away with in her quest to satisfy the hex. The question had left her mind the moment she had taken the shackles in her thin fingers. It was no longer how much she could get away with, but instead whether or not she could get away with just enough. Her dark eyes looked over Robin’s peacefully sleeping face. If he stayed asleep just long enough, she’d be able to get away with anything that she wanted.

With a delicate touch, she began to move his hands. It was a slow, careful process. While the haze of hormones in her mind begged her to move faster, she was able to push them down with the promise of pleasures to come. Her body shivered as she gently placed Robin’s hands above his head, against the rails of his headboard. The next step would either make or break her plan, and she didn’t know what he might do if he woke up now…but it was too late to go back on that.

He deserved this. If he thought that he’d be had already seen her when she was filled with an insatiable need, he had miscalculated. She wove the chain of the shackles between the rails of his headboard. If he thought that he’d have any chance of keeping her under control when her masterwork spell was coursing through her veins, he had underestimated her skills. The witch very carefully captured his right wrist in a cool metal shackle. This was all to educate him on his mistakes, to teach him to stay in his lane. Her lips formed a dark smile at the sound of the second shackle clicking closed around his left wrist. As far as Tharja was concerned, Robin had played with fire. He couldn’t complain if he got a little burned.

The shadowy witch slowly peeled away the thin sheet that hid Robin’s naked form from her. Now that she had him bound to the bed, she didn’t have to be so careful, but that didn’t meant she had to rush. Her body burned with desire, but she knew that it would be better to savour this. Robin wasn’t going anywhere. She could take her time and enjoy this.

Her eyes burned over every inch of his skin as it came into view and she walked the sheet down to the foot of the bed. Her hungry eyes traveled down his body, well toned from his time in combat. Robin might not have had the monstrous muscles of someone like Chrom, but not many magic users could boast the hard abs, or solid shoulders that Robin possessed. Even with all of that time building strength on the frontlines, somehow his skin still maintained the ghostly paleness of a scholar. Every time she laid eyes on him, Tharja was reminded of how much of a beautiful and mysterious specimen he was.

Normally Tharja would have taken some time to enjoy the sight of her handiwork. She was sure that in a normal situation she would have taken time to burn the image of his helpless body into her memory. Unfortunately, the haze of magic-fuelled hormones demanded a more immediate satisfaction. She promised herself that the next time she found herself at the foot of his bed with a bound and helpless Robin before her, she’d take the time to commit it to memory.

The rolling of Tharja’s hips and shoulders as she crawled over the edge of the bed conjured the image of some predatory cat. Every movement was slow and fluid, like a beast closing in on the small, wounded animal that it intended as its next meal. A vicious smile curled up the corners of her lips as he face came level with his hips. He would need to be awake in order for her lesson to really sink in. She was impressed with the intent, and general thinking of his solution to her spell, so perhaps she could afford to be a little gentle with his waking. 

Tharja brought up her slim fingers, letting the pads of her fingertips delicately trace over the sensitive skin of her sleeping lover. Her eyes looked up to his face, watching his lips part as his breath shuddered slightly. While her delicate teasing had been enough to begin the process of waking the dragon between his legs, it was proving not to be enough to wake the strategist. Sleeping so soundly would have made him an easy target for a Plegian assassin. Later she’d have to remind him how lucky he was that her ever-vigilant watching would catch anyone who meant to do him harm.

The dark witch slowly curled her fingers around Robin’s pulsing length. Her dark eyes watched his face closely as she gave his hardness a tentative pump. Robin’s eyebrows twitched slightly, and a soft noise escaped his slightly parted lips. Tharja gave the hot velvety rod in her palm another slow pump as she wondered just how long she might be able to do this without waking her lover. A shivering energy shot down her spine, settling in her core to remind her of the ever-demanding hex. This teasing play was fun, but it was doing little to placate the hex that threatened to turn her into a mindless slave of her sexual desires.

It felt like everything was more intense, and like every sensation was working against her self-control. The heat in her palm was so pleasant compared to the cold night air on her naked skin. The beating of his pulse against her fingers felt like an electric current running through every nerve of her body. The whispered noises that slipped past his lips threatened to drown out the voice in her head that was trying to oppose the decadent demands of the hex. The heady scent that exuded from just below her face was like a sweet perfume that spoke of sweat, and sex. It all worked to fill her mind with bodies contorting in pleasure, of the hard slap of skin against skin, of a voice, hoarse from moans struggling against the last lewd screams of a dizzying peak.

Tharja’s eyes screwed shut as her body shuddered slightly, a pleasant charge that had started deep in her core tearing through her nerves like fire. She had to bite her bottom lip to hold back a moan, and had to remove her fingers from her lover’s length to keep herself from squeezing it as her body was racked with waves of pleasure. This was madness. Her breath shuddered as she parted her lips and slowly opened her eyes. Such intense pleasure from a mere fantasy was too much. She felt like the hex might burn through what was left of her sanity until only it remained. 

The witch grit her teeth, and pushed back against the spell again, struggling for just a little bit more time before meeting its demands. She took a long breath, trying to calm the lingering embers of pleasure in her nerves. She tried to stop the subtle twitching of her muscles as they attempted to recover from the intensity of the signals they had received. She didn’t have time for Robin to sleep anymore. One arm held her shaking body up, while the fingers of the other moved up, curling around the base of Robin’s cock. Tharja needed him to wake up so that he could accept his punishment for what he had done to her. 

She dove forward, taking as much of his length into her mouth as possible before sealing her lips against his skin. His taste flooded her mouth, causing a familiar twitching between her thighs. She wasted no time in flattening her tongue against the underside of his length before trying to draw more of him into her mouth with a long suck. The act seemed to have satisfied the insatiable whispers of the hex in the back of her skull, at least for the moment. 

Robin’s body had shuddered, as he abruptly shifted from sleeping to very much awake. He attempted to bolt upwards, but bounced back into the bed, when the shackles pulled against his wrists. His mind, still hazy from sleep struggled to make sense of the strange situation her had found himself in. He was stopped in his thoughts by a sudden assault of sensations, and a long moan that tore its way from his throat. 

The strategist winced and looked down into the dark eyes of the raven-haired woman, “T-Tharja? What -Hhnnnggh- What are you doing?”

Tharja narrowed her eyes slightly. Surely in all of that reading that Robin loved to do so much he had stumbled across the concept of oral sex. She slowly drew her head back, her lips dragging tightly against his skin as she moved. She retreated until her lips seemed about to part from his length so that she could give him an answer to his silly question. Instead of separating from him, she chose to dive forward again, taking as much of him into her hot and hungry mouth as she could.

Robin’s body shuddered as he pulled slightly against the shackles that held him to the bed. He hadn’t had an opportunity to prepare for this, so all of it was coming much too fast. This had been what had woken him up, and he didn’t even know why she was doing it. This wasn’t like Tharja. It had been his experience that she enjoyed being the one who was helpless to his desires, not the other way around. With Tharja the shackles were just a prop, as she had demonstrated enough magical skill to escape them. Robin wasn’t sure if the same could be said about him.

“Tharja -Nnnnmmm- You have t-to let -mmmmmm- me go…” Sweat beaded on Robin’s forehead as he struggled against his chains, and the building pressure inside of him.

The witch’s lips left Robin’s length with a lewd ‘pop’, her dark eyes burning with lust as she looked up to him, “I’m not done with you yet, my sweet little Robin.” She smiled darkly and placed a quick kiss against the sensitive tip of his hardness, “You unleashed a dragon who will not be satisfied until she’s had her meal.”

Robin grit his teeth slightly, “Unchain me, Tharja!”

Tharja blinked and pulled away from him a little bit, biting her bottom lip as a flash of uncertainty crossed her face, “I-” Her head fell forward a little bit, her bangs hiding her eyes as she muttered softly, “Was I not doing it right?” When she looked up her eyes pleaded with him for some unknown thing, “You don’t want me to keep going?”

“I want you to unchain me.” The strategist groaned softly. He saw Tharja look down, her shoulders sinking in defeat, and he knew that the only way to dispel the doubts that lived in her heart was more honesty. He looked up at the ceiling and took a long breath, “Of course I want you to keep going. If my hands were free you wouldn’t even be able to ask that question.”

The witch gasped softly, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light as she considered his words. Her mind had grasped onto every word for meaning or encouragement, and the hex had used them to conjure more delicious fantasies. She could almost feel his strong hands taking control, his fingers tangling in her ebony locks. She knew that if she closed her eyes, she’d see it like an out of body experience. The hex begged to show her images of him taking control, of him pulling her forward and using her to satisfy his pleasure.

Her body shuddered softly, “Mmmmnn…Perhaps later.” She licked her lips, bringing them down so that they brushed against he skin as she spoke, “For now we’ll just have to imagine your hands on the back of my head.”

The dark mage parted her lips, just enough to allow his hard cock entry into the warm cavern of her mouth. Without any delay she began bobbing her head with a fevered and desperate pace. The tent was flooded with obscene noises as she tried to swallow more and more of him past her lips with each forward thrust. She felt a swell of pride in her heart at every desperate moan that he let slip out. Her own dark moans vibrated against his length as she tried desperately to replicate the fantasies that filled her imagination.

Robin groaned, pulling tight against the shackles that held him to his bed. The sudden assault was proving to be too much for him. He felt it build deep inside of him, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to last, “AAAaaGGhnn! Tharja! I can’t-!” He felt his hips twitch in a series of small thrusts, “I-If you don’t stop -MMMMmnnnnGGh- I’ll-!”

Had Tharja’s mouth not been otherwise occupied she would have worn a beaming smile of pride. She didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down. His cries fuelled her. They were simply more encouragement to see this through. It was just another goal that sat before the genius sorceress, and she always reached her goals. She closed her eyes, and enjoyed her work as her lips and tongue tried desperately to push him over the cliffs to a pleasurable madness.

He twitched in her mouth, the last warning before he reached his end. His seed shot out, splashing against the back of her throat. The shock was almost enough to make her pull back, but she kept her lips sealed around him, determined to capture her hard-earned prize. She moaned as her mouth was flooded with the musky and bitter taste, as his hot, sticky essence coated her tongue. She felt the bursts of fluid begin to slow, until finally he had finished, and she allowed his spent length to escape her lips. 

Robin shuddered as he came down from the orgasmic high. His breath came in laboured gasps as he looked down at his shadowy lover. Tharja gave him a devilish smile as she caught his eye. She parted her lips for a moment, showing off the mess that she still held in her mouth, then closed her lips and made a show of swallowing her prize. The strategist let out a low groan, his body involuntarily reacting to the show. 

“MMMmm…” Tharja cooed softly as she began to crawl up the bed, ever so slowly, “Thanks for the snack.” Her fingertips found him, and he felt a magical charge course through his sensitive skin, returning a sense of purpose to his spent organ, “I’m going to enjoy the main course.”

The strategist gasped and began to struggle slightly as his body was returned to readiness, “Tharja! Wait!” His eyes went wide, his lungs still struggling with hard ragged breaths, “I need to catch my breath.”

“You should have calculated that into your plan.” She was over him now, her face hovering mere inches from his, her legs spread and a spiderweb of her juices crossing back and forth between her thighs, “Did you think there weren’t going to be consequences to turning my own hex against me?” She pushed herself up and steadied herself on her knees as she looked down at the helpless strategist.

“I don’t-“ Were the only words that Robin was able to utter before Tharja dropped her body, claiming his entire length with the tight folds of her sex. His voice turned to a cry, and his vision exploded into fireworks of light ad he struggled to come to grips with yet another sudden and overpowering attack. Tharja’s palms were pressed tightly against his chest, her nails pressing into his skin as she squeezed him tightly within her walls.

Tharja’s world had exploded as she had impaled herself on Robin. Everything was pleasure. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she had cum the moment their intimate parts had touched. No longer were there words, or thoughts, there was only pleasure, and the demand for more of it. Why it was happening, and how it had come to this were no longer important as long as she could continue to enjoy this feeling. Her body was hot. Her heart beat so fast it felt like it would explode. Her skin was covered in seat that was cooled by the night air. None of it mattered compared to the mounting pleasure. 

The sorceress lifted her hips before slamming them down again. She threw her head back in a howl of pleasure at being once more filled with him. It was simultaneously too much, while not being nearly enough. She thrust her hips against him again, another long moan tearing from her throat. Her body shook and grew weak, and her hands found purchase on his shoulders, holding them so that she didn’t fall. She couldn’t stop. She needed more.

Their hips pounded together, the smell of their sex flooding the tent. The lewd slapping of her skin against his, keeping the pace of the lustful symphony of their desperate moans. The tent had been enchanted to keep noises from entering or escaping, a choice the strategist had made to maintain concentration on his plans. Now it served to keep the rest of the camp from hearing the sounds of their indecent activity.

Robin’s body arched against the bed, his muscles flexing as he strained against the shackles that held him down. Tharja’s body bounced, her breasts jiggling from the force of every downward stroke. The strategist felt his hips shudder and twitch in involuntary thrusts against witch who had gone mad with lust. The witch let out a mad cry of passion as she felt the strategist’s body take initiative even as it was held down to the bed.

“OOOOooooohh, Robin!” Her pussy squeezed him, trying desperately to milk him for another sticky load of his seed, “More! More! MORE!”

Robin was left with nothing but wordless moans. There was no time to form works between the desperate pace of Tharja’s thrusts. He couldn’t keep up, and even if he could, he had nothing to say. His hips twitched, and his body shuddered, a slave to the witches dance of pleasure. He could already feel his end approaching again. If Tharja had meant to draw this out, the lunacy of her pace would betray her and make that impossible.

Tharja’s hard thrusts, bounced Robin’s ass off of the bed, just long enough to push them back down with another hard thrust. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, as she threw her head back and forth. The witch had closed her eyes tightly as her world shrank town to just the point where the two were joined, focusing everything she was on the pleasure of their delicious friction. She felt his length twitch between her folds as he teetered on the edge of release.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The witch cried out in desperate moans with each thrust as she neared her last, “ROBINNNNNNNNN!” She felt his orgasm explode deep between her folds. He twitched as he shot ropes of his white hot seed deep into her core, each burst causing another explosion of orgasmic light to shoot across her vision. She squealed at the feeling of him emptying himself deep inside of her, flooding her depths with his potent spunk. The muscles of her sex squeezed desperately at him, working out every last drop of his essence from his tired and abused length.

As the two lovers reached the end of their peaks, Tharja slumped forward, barely holding herself up with her grip on the strategist’s shoulders, “Mmmmmnnn, Robin…” She slowly lifted her hips, letting him slip out of her. She moaned at the feeling of some of their combined fluids trickling out of her folds to roll down her thighs.

She righted herself, rolling back onto her knees, and brought her hands down to trace over the lips of her sex. She smiled as she brought a soiled fingertip to her mouth, tasting the product of their union, “Such a sweet meal.” Her body still buzzed with energy, and the fingers of her free hand traced over his spent length, pouring more magic into his body, “I wouldn’t mind a second serving.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and he struggled to speak between gasps, “Tharja! -huff- I didn’t -huff- do anything with -huff- your spell.”

The witch stopped and looked down at the gasping strategist, “There’s no point in denying it now.”

The white haired magic user shook his head quickly, finally starting to catch his breath, “Even if I would do something like that -huff- I’d never have it happen while I was asleep.”

Tharja chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, her mind finally clear enough to see reason. She swallowed hard as she slowly shifted off of Robin’s body, pushing herself up onto her shaky legs. He was right. It wouldn’t have made sense for him to have this happen while he was asleep and vulnerable. He would have made sure that he was the one in control of this situation, which meant he probably hadn’t had anything to do with it. If that was true, that meant that she had… 

The dark sorceress took a few shaky steps backwards, “Then I…” No. She’d never have done anything like this normally. This was all the fault of whoever had made her the target of the spell. The other magic users had been the ones who were supposed to be watching over it. Had they shirked their duties? No. No one else in camp would have had the magic talents needed to finish the spell. That meant one of them had done it. 

Tharja’s eyes darkened as she decided who was to blame for this situation, “Henry…Henry did this.”

“Tharja! Wait!” Robin struggled against his bindings.

She turned towards the desk, “Just wait there, Robin. I’ll come back and make this up to you after I’ve _taken care_ of Henry."  

Robin didn’t have time to think about whether or not the trick he had learned for dealing with the cuffs would work. He needed to act. He snapped his fingers, poured the magic into the cuffs and focused on the thought of opening them with everything that he was. The cuffs yielded to his magic command, and with a speed that he suspected he shouldn’t have after everything that had happened, he closed in on his lover.

The smooth surface of the desk was cold against Tharja’s naked chest. She struggled against the tight grip that held her wrists behind the small of her back. Robin’s other hand was pressed flat between her shoulder-blades, pressing her into the desk, and keeping her from getting up. It had all happened too quickly for her to react, and when it came to a battle of physical strength, the unit that had a talent for using swords was going to defeat the magic user every time.

“Let me go!?” Tharja struggled slightly, “I can’t let this go unanswered!”

Robin grit his teeth as he held the sorceress down, “You aren’t going anywhere tonight. You’ll do something that you regret.”

“I promise not to kill him.” Tharja glared at the wall of the tent. When she didn’t feel him loosen his grip she spoke again, “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do trust you.” The strategist took a long breath, “Tharja, you are a genius sorceress, the likes of which is beyond compare, and you are saying that someone used your masterpiece spell on you.”

Tharja grit her teeth, “That’s why I’m going to torture him until he learns his lesson. Don’t try to defend him!” She doubled her efforts at struggling.

The strategist growled softly, before pressing down with a bit more of his weight, “I’m not worried about _him_!” He felt as Tharja’s struggling stopped, feeling the confusion in her body, “You told me what that spell does, what if it isn’t over yet?”  

Tharja’s mind played over the possibility of her being found by guards on the way to seek her revenge. The hex filled her imagination wit thoughts of being passed form guard to guard until they decided they were tired of taking turns and all went at her at once. The thought would have normally been repugnant to her. Because of the hex, her body betrayed her with a slight shudder of sexual excitement at the thought of being used by these imaginary strangers.

The which let out a slow breath, trying to clear such thoughts from her mind, “I-I’d never do that." 

“Are you sure your spell would give you that choice?” Robin held her in place and shifted slightly, pressing the length that she had magically readied against her.

The hex did not lie, as it whispered more images of what might happen on her quest for revenge. She imagined it taking just enough control that she didn’t resist when the guards pushed her down. She saw her phantom self get lost in pleasure, and forget for a moment that she was surrounded by strangers. She saw herself forget to fight as strangers defiled her. Her imaginary opened her mouth to cry out, only for one of these strangers to take advantage of her moment of weakness. This alternate Tharja resigned herself to carnal delights as a gang of imaginary strangers descended upon her to use her body.

She shuddered, no longer sure whether it was from disgust, or some sort of vile pleasure. She muttered against the desk, “I’d never…”

“So your spell isn’t still in effect?” He looked down at her, speaking with a calm voice, “So I should let you go?”

The hex sent a shiver of anticipation through her body. If he let her go, she probably wouldn’t even bother looking for Henry anymore. The insidious spell would have her seek out the largest, most desperate looking guards. It would have her claw at clothes, and beg to be used. It would fill her with perverse excitement when they tied her up to make her totally helpless, and would likely only wear off when she had no way to escape the continued assault. The hex wouldn’t care as long as it was satisfied. 

“No.” Her voice croaked as she shifted her hips to rub her thighs together. She couldn’t think about that anymore. The more she thought about it the more the cursed spell begged her to do it, “Don’t let me go.” The hex made one last plea, making her imagine the feeling of being so completely used, “Don’t let me think about that.”

“Are you sure you’re still a victim of the spell?” Robin smiled softly, trying not to imagine whatever things a lust spell might be making her think about, “I’ve got you naked and bent over a desk. I’d figure if you were still a victim of a lust spell you’d be begging me to fuck you.” He pressed his magically returned hardness against her behind to accentuate his point, “Maybe it is safe for me to let you go.”

Tharja growled deep in her throat, preparing a retort, but when she opened her lips, the hex sent a wave of excited pleasure through her, and all that came out was a low moan. She realized that even without the spell she wanted him to do it. She closed her eyes and let her forehead fall forward against the cool surface of the desk. If their relationship was a game, Robin had clearly won this round.

“Please…” She murmured softly, “I’ll do anything you want…just please…” She turned her head, looking at him with eyes full of desperation, “I’m sorry I tied you up. Show me you forgive me.”

Robin took a long breath and gave a soft nod as he realized how completely the scales had been tipped, “Alright. I want you to do two things.” He kept his grip on her wrists tight, “If the hex isn’t gone when we’re done, you use that ‘staying power’ magic to keep me going.” 

Tharja swallowed, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks as she realized that Robin was still worried about the possibility that he might have to share her, “Obviously. What else?" 

The strategist pulled his hips back, “Even if that hex is messing with you, don’t you dare moan anyone else’s name.” With that he rocked his hips forward in a powerful thrust, sheathing himself deep inside of the waiting witch.

The thrusts were hard and fast, pushing Tharja against the edge of the desk, while his firm grip on her wrists kept her pinned to the desk. His hard cock plundered her depths, hitting her in ways that seemed impossible. She cried out his name as he gave her the thorough and complete fucking that she had asked for, causing her body to rock slightly, the tops of her thighs pressing hard into the edge of the desk. The pleasure assaulted her senses, pushing the hex out of her mind. Soon all that was left, was the witch, the strategist, and the realization of their love through vigorous physical activity.

The dark witch let out a wonton moan, that she knew was only fuelled from her own need, the hex long forgotten, “Fuck me, Robin! AAAhhnnn! Fuck me!” She threw her head back, losing herself to the friction of his hard cock sliding in and out of her eager folds, “AAAAAGGGNNNN!”

It only took a few more thrusts before the strategist gave up his plan on keeping the eager sorceress pinned. His hands moved down quickly, grasping at her hips, and drawing her back into his hard thrusts as he tried to bury himself deeper inside of her. They way she squeezed onto him so tightly, the way she lost herself to her moans, all of it spurred him on, made him work harder. His hips slapped against hers over and over again, filling the tent with wet slapping sounds of their sex.

Her body shook and shivered with each thrust. Her sensations were no longer amplified by the power of the spell, but each thrust still felt like an explosion of pleasure. She was weak, and her body felt heavy, after-effects of the spell, she suspected. Even now that she was free of the pin, she was helpless to do anything but cling to the desk, and revel in the pleasures Robin chose to give to her. If his hands hadn’t been holding her hips, her knees likely would have gone weak. She felt like a marionette who’s strings had been cut.

She was helpless to do anything but moan as Robin fucked her on the desk. If she could chose her heaven, Tharja would vote for this. Her moans turned into sharp cries as her pussy shook and quaked around Robin’s invading cock. Her orgasm exploded in her brain, sending shockwaves throughout her body, and Robin didn’t even slow down as he pounded the witch, who for the first time really did feel like a helpless maiden. Her moans had transformed, no longer forming words, but instead being whatever mewling sounds she could get out between ragged breaths.

Robin’s pounding thrusts continued. He felt his balls churn with his imminent release. His thrusts grew desperate and erratic. Robin grit his teeth, trying to hold on a little bit longer, anything to last a few more moments. His fingers dug into Tharja’s hips as he pulled her back, pushing himself as deep inside of her as he could. 

With a last solid thrust, hilted himself inside of her. His length twitched, and he unleashed a powerful shot of his seed deep within her. His hips quaked slightly in small thrusts, each one heralding another burst of his white goo between Tharja’s eager folds. The witch let out low groans, basking in the feeling of him emptying himself in her deepest parts. He held her tight against him through the last dying bursts of his orgasm, making sure that every last drop was emptied into the dark woman’s trembling body.

Finally spent, Robin took a stumbling step back, that ended with him sitting on the edge of his bed. He felt empty, like there was nothing left that he could possibly give. His body tingled with the pleasurable aftershocks of what they had done. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to continue, even with Tharja’s substantial magical powers. If she was still blessed with an unstoppable libido and the energy reserves to act on it, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

Tharja used the last of her strength to push herself up from the table. She turned to face Robin, struggling to keep her balance as she took a shaky step towards him. Her eyes were hazy, struggling against the deep sense of exhaustion that had taken hold of her body. She fell forward, and felt her heart flutter as she was caught in Robin’s strong arms. He proved too exhausted to hold either of them up, and then fell over, becoming tangled together with each other on his bed.

The witch let out a long and shaky breath against her strategist’s neck, “You’d better…take responsibility…” 

Robin groaned softly, “What?”

Tharja’s lips curled into a soft smile as she felt sleep moving in to claim her, “I’m looking forward…to meeting out child from the future…”


End file.
